


Tales From District Twelve

by Flvctvat_Nec_Mergitvr



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alphabet, F/F, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Victor!Gale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11267250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flvctvat_Nec_Mergitvr/pseuds/Flvctvat_Nec_Mergitvr
Summary: Drabbles. Insights. I don't even know yet.Basically one shots from my brain that I had to get out.





	1. A: Affliction

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don't know what this is.  
> I hope it's self explanatory.  
> I hope you like.
> 
> ((I'm a sadistic bastard to characters apparently))

When Finnick entered Gloss' room in the hospital as he did every day, a fake smile plastered on his face, he could tell instantly that the man wasn't completely with him today and the pain hit him harder than any of the deaths he'd seen, any games, any loss.

The TV played on low volume to provide enough background noise to block out intrusive thoughts, and Gloss sat cross legged on the bed, feet clad in fluffy socks. Today's choice were pink, and so ridiculous Finnick thought even Augustus would turn up his nose at them and that man had the most questionable fashion sense in Panem. Well, his stylist did, he supposed. That was besides the point, however.

Finnick had been discharged for weeks now, still a shell of his former self but no longer suicidal. He continued to stay in the Capitol, despite how much it hurt, unable to leave and start a new life without his world. Unable to move on.

That was the problem. 

Snow may have been gone but he'd somehow taken the thing Finnick loved the most and tried to pit it against him. He'd failed, he couldn't make Gloss hate him, but the attempts had damaged the man greatly. Finnick still didn't know what happened to Gloss after the man's broadcast warning had been shut off, but he thought, selfishly, maybe it's better he that he didn't know. There's too much pain already.

Upon the rebels winning the war and overthrowing the Capitol, someone had given away which of the Capitol's five hospitals Finnick was staying in, and he'd been showered with gifts; but the majority, like a ridiculous number of socks -the capitolites were big on comfort and hygiene it seemed- he gave to Gloss, who seemed to enjoy them. He'd use these gifts as an excuse to approach his lover, who he felt so removed from, especially on days like today.

Days like this were days when the Capitol's torture for Finnick's actions after the quarter quell combined with years of threats and forced prostitution were too much to bear and Gloss slipped away from him and sought comfort from things that were as far from the holding cells in the tribute centre as possible. Like warm socks, and colouring. Childish things, maybe, but a comfort. The doctors had learned to give him space or they'd end up with a broken bone, or worse, and an inconsolable man who had to be tied down before he could inflict damage on others or himself. 

In Gloss' hands, today, was a colouring book. Like the socks, this was another thing Finnick had received in excess and they actually seemed to help Gloss relax, and this was why he hadn't issued a statement asking for the gifts to stop. He'd accept these gifts, even though they made him feel as dirty as his days trading secrets for sex, to help his lover in any way he could. Though, maybe, he would issue a statement one day explaining the nature of his and Gloss' relationship, when the man was ready. 

The idea that Gloss would never be ready was one Finnick couldn't think about.

"Gloss, it's me," he announced his presence -surprising a Victor was never a good idea- as he stood at the door and waited until ice blue eyes found him, before slowly moving closer to perch on the end of the bed, being watched all the while. He didn't touch, though, not at first, knowing on days like these that a wrong move could end in disaster- and set back months of therapy. He did, however, offer the chocolate box, the reason for his visit. 

His efforts were, surprisingly, rewarded with a smile, and a the warm weight of a head on his shoulder. Finnick's own head rested over Gloss' after a moment when he got over his shock and managed to stifle the urge to cry, and the pair stayed together in their own little world. 

He fought the urge to reach for Gloss' hand, knew not to press his luck, staying as still as possible in an effort to preserve the moment before his lover inevitably snapped.  
Finnick thought, things would be okay.

They had to be.

In the corner, stack upon stack of books and socks and chocolate sat, untouched, forgotten, marking this one successful day out of three months of failure. He would never give up hope. 

Perhaps Snow was right: too much hope is dangerous.


	2. B: Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey though if Gale was swapped for Katniss the story would've been like exactly the same (maybe just to me bc I ship every guy on the planet together).
> 
> Victor Gale though.

Today is Reaping Day. 

It's around three in the morning when Gale wakes up, less than gracefully, to a kick in the side from one of his brothers as they roll over. This is a common occurrence- and even if his brother hadn't accidentally woken him, he'd have gotten up soon after.

He grumbles for a moment as he gets his bearings, blinking blearily in the darkness before realisation washes over him like the crisp air outside. Yes, today is Reaping Day. Faint snores and soft breaths of his family ring through the piercing quiet. The remnants of last night's fire do nothing to warm him and he shivers involuntarily, not fully from the cold.

Gale starts the day as he does any other- by taking mental inventory over his body parts. Strange, but it has to be done when sharing a bed with three siblings. He is lying in an S position on the bed, head bowed and knees bent, with three year old Posy cuddled into his chest. Five year old Victor -Vick, always, to Gale, the name Victor is far too dishonest- is behind him and was the source of the kick. Rebellious Rory, newly ten, stretches out at the foot of the bed in a bid to gain some independence - the reason for the ache in Gale's bent legs.

At six foot two already, Gale's feet hang off of the bed when stretches out and curling up small to accommodate others really isn't helping his joints. Gale can't fault Rory for wanting his own space, but also can't help but be envious in that moment- after all, his feelings need to be kept in the dark, and so he is allowed to let jealousy and hurt and stress hang over him like a knife swinging overhead. 

Because their father is dead, and so he has to protect them all from the monster outside. The Capitol. But how can he protect them from something he is defenceless against? Tears prick in his eyes at the injustice but he blinks them away quickly. Never let them see you bleed really doesn't work when your death is publicised, but Gale has sworn never to let them see him cry, hasn't cried since the day an explosion changed his life forever, thrust him into manhood and fatherhood at only thirteen.

His mother feels guilty and does her best, but there's never enough food or money or clothes and so Gale poaches with his best friend Katniss, and while Hazelle doesn't agree with the law breaking they are so hungry that she doesn't even question how bread and meat ends up at their table anymore. Even that is barely enough, though, and the mines are always looking for help and despite the age limit Gale works a couple of days a week instead of school, and when he coughs, there is blackness now.

The morning is Gale's favourite time. There's pain in his arms from carrying game and shooting birds out of the air and building snares and mining coal, and there's pain in his legs from running over rough ground and keeping tension to avoid making noise and rushing home after long shifts, and he's exhausted, but in these moments he doesn't have to worry about anything but himself. He's allowed a selfish moment to feel.

Posy lets out a sleepy whine when he shifts to get comfier, and so he resigns himself to staying in the same position. With his cheek pressed against her soft black hair, he can't be too angry. After all, this could be his last time holding her. At sixteen, with tesserae, the amount of entries he has is close to thirty and the thought fills him with fear.  
Today is Reaping Day, and things may never be the same again.


	3. C: Chained

Gale knows as soon as he wakes up that he isn't in the Capitol anymore. The last thing he remembers is hearing the familiar sobs echoing down the hall from his friends cells abruptly stop, and seeing a plume of smoke rise from under his own door before he can panic over the silence, and then blackness. He thinks he remembers the sensation of being lifted, but that's all. 

The stabbing pain of his back from the guard’s whip has been reduced to a dull ache -thankfully- and it feels as though invisible hands are pressing him onto the bed, keeping him from moving. He'd panic but the same hands are holding his brain, soothing, drowsy. Nothing is holding him there, but painkillers.  
Ah, Morphling. Beautiful Morphling.

He tries to sit up anyway because he's Gale and he rarely does what he's supposed to, but this time real hands hold him down and turning his head sideways dispels his panic over being touched. It's Katniss, and she's okay. She's safe. 

“Hey, Catnip.” He manages a small smile and she looks so relieved. But tired, too. There are dark circles under her eyes and because she's never been able to keep a thing she felt off her face, he pales. "Katniss?"

Delicate hands, the hands of a hunter, brush his hair back gently. Well, what's left of it. Within the first few days of his capture he'd had his hair hacked off to make him 'less pretty'- not that he cared about appearances, only the pitying look she was giving him now. "Gale," She said, gently. "I'm so, so sorry."

"For what? You didn't know about the rebellion," He's not used to talking, hasn't spoken this much in weeks, and his scream damaged throat protests despite the painkillers. He supposed it would be a lot worse without the Morphling. "You didn't know..."

She swallows, takes a moment. "To distract the Capitol, Finnick...he filmed another propo..." She reddens slightly and suddenly Gale understands what she can't say.

"Oh."


	4. D: Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek what I'm doing I feel like this is becoming some form of non linear AU.
> 
> This is two years after the last chapter. 
> 
> Victor Gale is totally my shizz, in this he won when he was 16 two years before the 74th Games.

When Gale hears Effie read out the names of the two new tributes for the 74th Games, two years after he, himself has won, he feels like screaming.

The Capitol had promised, _Snow_ had promised a life of freedom to those unlucky enough to make it out of the arena alive and that couldn't be farther from the truth. However, every sacrifice; every haunting figure he'd witnessed die; every humiliating night spent giving himself to someone for the President's benefit; had seemed almost worth it because at least those he loved were safe.

Until now.

Katniss Everdeen stands on the stage, expression carefully guarded and unreadable except to Gale, who knows her better than anyone, who knows she is about to break down. He longs to comfort her but knows that he can't, he isn't allowed to because she doesn't feel the same and because even if she did, he is a 'sex symbol' in the Capitol and thus isn't allowed to date (except those who pay for his time).

Peeta Mellark stands beside her, chewing his lip anxiously, and though Gale wants to hate him the guy is far too likeable, too kind for the world they live in. Coming back from his games to find that Katniss had found someone else had broken Gale inside, as had seeing her disproval grow and grow each year at the heavily publicised scandals Gale was involved in, photographed disappearing into cars with men and drunk with women hanging off of him. "You're becoming no better than Finnick Odair." She'd told him and it had hurt worse than anything else.

He can do little more than watch in horror as Effie cheerfully announces their names and tries fruitlessly to get an applause. He thinks he hears Haymitch try to speak to him but he is frozen, unable to even react.

When Gale does, eventually, come out of his thoughts he realises Haymitch has led him to the train, is watching him carefully over a glass of amber liquid, waiting. Screw it, Gale thinks and pours his own glass, watching dark eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Haymitch, we have to-" he coughs at the taste, the burn, and takes a moment to continue "-Help them. Please." He knows they don't have long until the tributes are done saying goodbye to their families, and are led here.

The older man takes a moment before responding. "Gale. You were the first victor from 12 in twenty years," he says, "you know only one can get out."

"I'll do anything. Anything."

"That," The older Victor muses, "Is a very dangerous sentence."


	5. E: Ent'racte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Kay so...
> 
> It's been months and I've started university (that totally isn't an excuse I'm on my phone all day every day) but bear with.
> 
> So this chapter is different from my other drabbles (bar chapter 1) but I was thinking-
> 
> Victor!Gale is cool but how frickin cool would Spy!Gale be? So, and bearing in mind I wrote this at 6am, I tried to give a little insight into how I thought that would go and the Finnick/Gale that would commence from there.

Leaving his family is the hardest thing Gale has ever had to do.

Haymitch Abernathy, the village drunk, turns out to be secretly organising a rebellion _-seriously what the fuck?!-_ and his insistence that Gale can help coupled with his best friend's suffering at the hands of the Capitol means he agrees to help in any way possible.

Apparently, this involves wearing a lot of makeup. Which Gale could do without, really. 

He is smuggled onto the train as it leaves for the Victors tour and lays low until they get to the Capitol, at which point he disappears into the crowd while Katniss and Peeta -he hates even thinking that name- wave at their admirers, oblivious.

Plutarch Heavensbee tells him during their brief meeting that he is to act as an Avox- which means weird robes, _not okay_ , lots of red makeup, _really not okay,_ and no talking, _can kind of deal with that._

"Lay low. When the rebellion happens, we're going to need all hands on deck to get things happening. The plan is to have planes picking up the Victors in the games itself, and also the mentors who'll stay in the Tower. Obviously moving lots of spies in closer to the time is suspicious and clumsy, so the aim is to subtly introduce more and more undercover agents who will then be able to overwhelm peacekeepers and help evacuate. Hopefully the Victors will become familiar with your faces too, so when you try to convince them onto the plane they'll come."

Gale nods slowly, though he thinks his face isn't exactly memorable he doesn't say it. "Right...and, what Haymitch said? About District 13?" He asks, incredulous still though he knows he's in too deep to be questioning, and that the strangely sober words of the older Victor couldn't have been lies.

"It's all true." Plutarch says, a pleased smile on his face. "I'm sure they'll have a place for you in the fight," he adds as an afterthought, an appeasement, already sensing that that's how Gale wants to be helping. _'Just stick this out. Help me and I'll help you'._ His eyes say.

And so Gale stands silently by the door to the fourth floor and watches his assigned Victors come and go. At first he thinks they're as vapid, materialistic and shallow as they'd come across every year on TV- until he hears the screams at night time.

 

\--

 

_From the first day of Games season, Finnick can't help but notice the Avox with the beautiful, gray eyes._


	6. D: Dashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick hates the old healthcare system.

“No, no way.”

“Come on, babe,” Finnick says from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs. ”You’d look like...like a sexy librarian. This is prime role play material, here. Spice up our sex life.”

Gale splutters, flustered, still not used to all the affection and flirting Finnick gives him, even after all they’ve been through together. “ _Finnick_! No way! This is not about sex, not that I - I even think we need ‘spice’ or-“ Finnick thinks it’s funny how awkward he still gets at discussing their sex life after al this time. 

The blond stands, smiling affectionately as he walks over to his younger partner and wraps his arms around the man’s broad shoulders. A sweet kiss is placed on a tan cheek, lips curling into a smile as he feels the skin heat into a blush under his touch. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You need glasses, it’s not a huge deal. My first crush was Beetee in his games, you know?” the last part is teasing but his tone remains supportive and gentle, a soothing hand stroking down Gale’s back. He’s rewarded by a laugh from Gale, though the man still looks unsure.

“I’m fine, Finnick. Really. I handled the mom and the kids, the war, and a job in the mines.” They both ignore the slight shudder as Gale remembers the horrible underground he still has nightmares over. “I don’t...I’m not weak.”

“Oh, honey, is that what this is about?” Finnick sighs, cupping his husband’s cheeks. “Look at me? Gale?” He presses gently, rewarded by the beautiful grey eyes he fell in love with locking in his own. “You are not weak. You’re so, so strong and the awful healthcare system in old Panem might’ve let you suffer for years, unable to see properly, but I’ll be damned if I let you keep walking into doorways. Even Augustus doesn’t find it funny anymore.” 

“Maybe if someone stopped redecorating every week,” Gale says, but it’s more a tease back, an acquiesce. He’s warming up due to Finnick’s attention, the blond the only one capable of getting the stubborn man to compromise. “Fine. Let’s just...go for a consultation, no promises, though.”

Finnick smirks, pleased he’s gotten his way though it’s really no surprise, Gale would do anything for him. “Great. You can be sexy librarian and I...” he clicks his tongue thoughtfully, “I can be the overworked new teacher who needs to someone to help him loosen up?” 

Gale snorts, and leans in to press their lips together. “We’ll see.”


End file.
